


Red, Black, and Blue

by danasccully



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danasccully/pseuds/danasccully
Summary: The first time Peter and Wade meet... goes as well as you would expect. They clearly like each other, but can they make it work?





	Red, Black, and Blue

The first time Peter Parker and Wade Wilson met was probably not what you would expect. Or maybe it is. A puny college geek and an unkillable psychopath--the pairing is already strange, I guess their meeting should be too.

Anyway, Peter was out doing his nightly rounds in the neighborhood, when he heard a crash followed by an alarm coming from a local jeweler's shop. Peter snuck over to investigate, and found a figure in a red-and-black suit ( _someone_ was clearly trying to cramp his style) spray painting a crude message onto the walls inside the shop. Diamond necklaces and gold chains were strewn across the floor, and a large display case in the center of the store was shattered.

"Listen man, if you've got some crazy tech or super powers or some shit, just tell me now, because I'm exhausted and if this is gonna be a pain in the ass I'd rather just call it in to the big shots," Peter explained, webbing the guy's spray can hand to the wall.

"Oh  _please_ don't call daddy Stark in here! I still don't have the four dollars I owe him!" the figure replied playfully.

"Who the hell--" Peter started, but was cut short when the guy cut himself loose with one fell soon of a katana that Peter thought he pulled out of nowhere.

"Listen, I'm just here to fuck shit up, do some minor vandalism, and I'll be on my merry way," he clarified, putting the sword into a sheath on his back.

"I can't just let you vandalize a high-end jewelry store. Look, I don't even know why I'm talking to you. I'm gonna call this in." Peter pulled out his phone and started dialing Tony Stark's number.

"What if I told you the guy who owns this place is involved with the Mexican cartel and scammed my client out of some serious moolah?"

Peter stopped dialing and looked up.

"Seriously. Who the hell are you?" Peter demanded.

A booming voice from above Peter's head answered.

"His name is Deadpool. And he owes me big time."

Peter didn't even have time to look up to the owner of the voice before a sickly-smelling rag was smashed into his face. A massive are grabbed him around the chest and arms, and before he completely blacked out, he saw a blurry figure in red across the room going limp in another pair of bulky arms.

* * *

 

Peter was relieved that his mask was still now when he came to, but that was pretty much where the relief ended. He was chained back to back with Deadpool above a literal pool of sharks.  _Real original_. They were suspended on a rope that was slowly descending to their eminent doom. Peter started to pull at the chains.

"Oh, you're awake. Good morning princess," Deadpool said.

"Tell me what is going on right now or I will rip your throat out, asshole," Peter ordered.

"Woah, buy a girl dinner first. Well you see, the owner of that jewelry shop, you know, the one who hangs out with the Mexican drug lords, well I owe him money. And this time, it's a little more serious than owing your pal Tony four dollars. We're talking more like, I owe a Mexican cartel big daddy upwards of five thousand dollars," Deadpool explained, while Peter half listened and half tried to figure out a way for them to escape. He noticed that there was a lever stationed on a platform about twenty feet above their heads. However, their looming demise was also about twenty feet away. And they were not taking their time.

Deadpool continued, "And I'm guessing he grabbed you too because two is better than one, am I right? Unless you have some ties to Ignacio that I don't know about."

Peter ignored the comment and started explaining his plan. "So there's a lever up there, and I can bet that it'll stop us from dropping any lower. If we can get ourselves swinging, one of us can hit the lever and buy us some time to get out of here."

"Or I can just do this," Deadpool offered, pulling both of the shoulders out of their sockets with a single, sickening  _pop_. He was then able to shimmy out of the chains and crawl up the rope.

"How does my ass look from this angle?" Deadpool teased Peter, as Peter grew closer and closer to five circling sharks.

"Now is not the time!" Peter screamed. Deadpool reached the platform and pulled the lever. To both of their surprise, the rope did not stop moving, but instead the chains binding Peter fell away and Peter was now plummeting to this death. In the split second he had before being eaten alive by bloodthirsty sharks, he shot a web onto the bottom of the platform, narrowly missing the clamping jaws of a particularly large shark.

By the time Peter reached the platform itself, Deadpool was already engaged in a deadly battle with a guy who Peter assumed to be the one who kidnapped them. Peter prepared to join in the combat, but before he could even make a move, the guy's severed head rolled across the floor.

"Okay, so that's they kind of guy you are. Very comforting," Peter noted.

"Ah, get over yourself. My name is Deadpool. Did you seriously expect rainbows and unicorns?" he shot back. Behind his mask, Peter rolled his eyes.

"We can get out through a ventilation system up there," Peter said, pointing to a corner of the ceiling, which was about 30 feet high. "Can you like, fly, or teleport or something?" Peter asked, hoping hard that the answer would be yes so he wouldn't have to carry him.

"Unfortunately Webs, I don't. So I guess you'll just have to wrap your strong arms around me and--"

"Yeah, I get it," Peter groaned, roughly grasping Deadpool around the waist and crawling the wall toward the vent shaft.

"Ooh, so you like it rough, huh? Wanna be my Dom?" Deadpool giggled as Peter yanked the grate off the wall.

"Ew. Get in the shaft," Peter demanded, shoving Deadpool through the tiny opening, then following suit.

The men crawled through the tunnels barely large enough to contain the two of them, following Peter's directions.

"So what's your fancy superhero name? Arachna-Boy? Web-Head? Daddy Long Legs?" Deadpool prodded.

"Spider-Man," Peter responded.

"Hm, basic, yet classy. I like it. Although I do think you missed a golden opportunity with Daddy Long Legs." He paused for about three seconds. "You know, I should tell you that I'm pretty hard right now."

"You're disgusting."

"What can I say? The cramped space, the near-death experience, the twinky little boy. Those are like, spots two four, and seven on my top ten kinks list."

"Ugh," Peter groaned. Deadpool was annoying. But he was funny, whether Peter wished to admit it or not. Peter liked funny guys, and he liked the attention, even if it was from a cocky asshole.

After what felt like centuries, they finally reached the end of the tunnels and cool, fresh air. The vents let out at the back of a warehouse, about 40 feet above hard concrete.

"You want help down?" Peter offered.

Deadpool gasped dramatically. " _The_ Spider-Man is offering to help  _me_?" he exclaimed.

"Don't make me take my offer back," Peter added. Deadpool grasped Peter around his chest.

"Take me away, Jack," Deadpool whispered seductively into Peter's ear. Peter chuckled and swung them both safely to the ground with the help of a nearby telephone pole. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Deadpool smacked Peter's ass hard and was gone in an instant.

That night, as Peter was falling asleep, he could think only of the elusive Deadpool, with his vulgarity, harassment, and undeniable charm. Peter was intrigued.

* * *

 

The next time Peter encountered Deadpool, he was sitting under a tree on campus, reading a book for class.

"Sup Webs," said a familiar voice from the opposite side of the tree, surprising Peter. He began to turn around, but stopped when he realized that Deadpool hadn't yet seen his face.

"How did you--"

"Please, I would recognize that ass anywhere. I love the whole college thing. It's honestly adorable. University nerd by day, insect-themed crime fighter by night. How's that working for you?" Deadpool quipped.

"It's working perfectly fine, thank you. In fact, I have a quiz in ten minutes, so I should get going," Peter replied coldly. As much as he was beguiled by the mysterious Deadpool, Peter didn't have time for this in the middle of the week.

"Hold on, hold on. That quiz isn't going anywhere." Deadpool passed back a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?" Peter asked, then realized that Deadpool had disappeared.

He opened the piece of paper, and on it was scribbled an almost illegible note. As Peter walked to his next class, he managed to decipher the chicken scratch.

BROOKLYN BRIDGE

4:20 HAHAHAHA JUST KIDDING MIDNIGHT

BRING YOUR CUTE BUTT

It was accompanied by a particularly detailed doodle of something private and hairy. Peter tried to fight the smile creeping across his face. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

 

When Peter arrived at the meeting spot at midnight, Deadpool was already there, sitting on the railing and playing some really bad RnB.

"Webs! So glad you made it! Good timing too--I just finished--"

"Please. What do you want?" Peter cut Deadpool off, already knowing where he was headed with that sentence.

"Alright so here's what I was thinking: We start out with that new club on sixth, hop around for a few hours until we're properly wasted, stop by my personal favorite bar and take turns flirting with the bartender, and finally eat ice cream while watching the sunrise."

Peter stared dubiously at Deadpool, who was still obliviously listening to his music.

"Good night Deadpool," Peter stated, turning to leave. Deadpool leapt over Peter's head and stood in his path. He was easily a foot taller than Peter, and significantly larger. Peter suddenly found himself distracted by Deadpool's muscular physique... his broad shoulders... his toned chest and abs... his--

"Come  _on_ Spidey," Deadpool whined. Peter stepped around him and continued walking.

"I don't have time for this, Deadpool," Peter snapped.

Deadpool groaned in exasperation. "Live a little Webs! YOLO! FOMO! ROLO! Whatever the kids say nowadays!" Peter again sidestepped Deadpool. Deadpool grabbed Peter's hand before he could get away. Peter took a sharp breath in when their fingers made contact. Deadpool had a firm, confident grip, and Peter's slim hand fit perfectly inside of it. He turned and tried to peer through the pure white of Deadpool's mask to his eyes underneath. Deadpool was doing the same thing, but neither of them were aware of what the other was doing.

"I guess ice cream would be nice," Peter finally admitted, much to Deadpool's delight. "you have an hour."

"Yes sir," Deadpool quipped, grinning ear-to-ear behind his mask. "Let's get started."

Deadpool and Spider-Man explored the city, Peter showing Deadpool significant place from his childhood--the hospital where he was born, the house he grew up in, the academy he graduated from.

Peter brought them up to the Empire State building. He knew a spot about thirty feet above the viewing area that had one of the best views of the city in his opinion. It was probably meant for employees to do cleaning and repairs, but every time Peter had been up there, he was left alone.

The city was wide awake and bursting with activity, even in the middle of the night. Peter sat unusually close to Deadpool, for someone he was determined to dislike. Their feet dangled off the edge of the platform.

"This stinking, rotten city really cleans up nice, doesn't it," Deadpool commented. He had never been up this high before, and he was honestly terrified. He wasn't about to admit that to Peter, however.

"It really doesn't. Actually if you can get to that little spot over there," Peter said, pointing to a small perch about ten feet above their heads, "you can see the entire skating rink." At even the suggestion of moving higher, Deadpool's death grip tightened on the ledge he was sitting on.

"You know what Webs? I really like this spot right here. In fact, I think I can see the rink from where I'm sitting," Deadpool lied, praying that he wouldn't have to go up any higher. He was a good liar--amazing, in fact. But Peter knew that there was no way Deadpool could see the rink from where they were seated.

"You're scared of heights, aren't you?" Peter realized chuckling.

"Am not! It's just... kinda cold up here, ya know? Maybe we should just go back now."

"Come on," Peter goaded, grabbing Deadpool's hands and guiding him to the spot he had pointed out. Deadpool clung desperately to Peter's grip, and Peter couldn't help but grin at how easily this tough, intimidating man could become a helpless child. When they reached the ledge, Peter tried letting go of Deadpool's hand, but Deadpool only squeezed tighter.

"I had my first kiss with a boy up here," Peter admitted.

"Jeez Spidey, I thought I was special," Deadpool sputtered through gritted teeth.

Peter ignored him. "First, he held my hand like this." With his free hand, Peter gently pried Deadpool's hand from the ledge and intertwined their fingers. Deadpool's heart began to race, and for once he didn't shoot back a snarky remark.

"And then he lifted my mask just enough, like this." Still holding both of Deadpool's hands, Peter pulled his mask up to his nose. "He leaned closer, and closer to me..."

Peter started reaching toward Deadpool's mask, but was abruptly pushed away. Deadpool started laughing nervously.

"I think that's enough for now, Webs. And would you look at the time! I've gotta take my underwear out of the dryer," he said, desperate for an escape. Peter was confused, and a little hurt, be he helped Deadpool down to the nearest public viewing area, and as soon as Deadpool's feet hit solid floor, he disappeared without a word.

 _I guess it really was all just an act_ , Peter thought to himself, sitting alone on the ledge.  _Deadpool didn't really care about me at all_.

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Peter was enjoying a quiet and relaxing Friday afternoon. He didn't have any work to do over the weekend for once, and was unwinding with a book about biochemistry that only he could find interesting He hadn't seen Deadpool since the incident on the Empire State Building. He hadn't stopped thinking about him since then either. The way he responded to Peter just didn't make any sense. Sure, Deadpool was cocky and flirtatious, but Peter could have sworn that there was some sincerity to Deadpool's behavior with him. There had to be something else going on. Right?

Peter's phone buzzed with a new text message. It was from Deadpool. Peter's heart leapt out of his chest. Without hesitating, he grabbed his phone and opened the message.

1200 ORANGE ST. APT 4A

ASAP

PLEASE

The message caught Peter completely off-guard. This was not how Deadpool ever communicated with him. Without profanity, or jokes, or crude humor. There was some honesty in this message, which Peter had never gotten from Deadpool. In less than a minute Peter was suited up and flying toward Orange street. The street was nothing more than Peter expected; it was dirty, dark, and early empty. He quickly located the address and slipped through an ajar window. The apartment itself was also nothing more than Peter expected. He entered through what he assumed to be Deadpool's bedroom. There was a mattress shoved against the back wall, and the rest of the room was literally covered with piles of junk and dirty clothes. Peter crawled across the wall, through the doorway which led to a hallway. The walls in the house were completely barren. There were no photos, no paintings, just nothing. Peter felt a tinge of guilt, though he didn't quite know why. Through another doorway, Peter spotted a figure in red sitting at a dining table. Deadpool had his head in his hands. Peter's stomach dropped.

He carefully lowered himself to the floor and walked through the doorway.

"Hey," Peter greeted, taking a seat opposite Deadpool. The table was small, and Peter became acutely aware of how close they were to each other.

"Is everything alright? I haven't heard from you in weeks--"

"Webs I..." Deadpool interrupted, then trailed off. He glanced at his kitchen window and thought about how easy it would be to escape. Just like always. To just run away and leave everything behind. But he didn't want to run away. Not again.

"Listen. I know you like me, or whatever. Or at least you did, before I disappeared. And I'm sorry about that. I really am. But you have to understand--I'm crazy. I'm ugly, and I'm fucked up in the head. You don't want me... You don't want this." Deadpool felt sick. He couldn't look at Spider-Man.

Peter was quiet. He wasn't sure what to think. Deadpool always acted like such an ass, but maybe it was a protective mechanism. Maybe... he was afraid.

"Try me," Peter finally said.

"What?" Deadpool replied, taken aback.

"Try me," Peter repeated. Deadpool didn't say anything. Peter slowly reached across the table. Deadpool leaned back instinctively, then stopped, sensing Spider-Man's sincerity. Peter gently began pulling up Deadpool's mask, revealing a deeply scarred, disfigured face. Deadpool stared down at the table with warm brown eyes that stood as a stark contrast against his rough skin.

"It's bad, I know. You can say it. It doesn't hurt my feelings anymore. 'It looks like a litter box that hasn't been cleaned out in a decade'. 'You look like Freddy Krueger's uglier, dumber cousin out of incest'. I've heard it all before."

"I think you look perfect."

"I--wait what? Come on Spidey. No need to stroke my ego."

Peter removed his mask to show Deadpool the complete sincerity plastered across his face. "You're perfect."

Deadpool couldn't help but grin. A one hundred percent truthful, joyful grin. He hadn't done that in a long time.

"I'm Peter. Peter Parker," he said, offering his hand. Deadpool looked at it hesitantly. It would take him a long time to ever believe that Peter still liked him after seeing his face, but nonetheless he took Peter's hand in a firm grip and shook it.

"Wade Wilson," he replied. "Now kiss me you idiot."

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to have them make out after "kiss me you idiot", but then I got there and was like....... really Not Feelin It so let me know if you want a part two !! it'll just be them making out probably


End file.
